


Day the Music Died, The

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Children, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-01
Updated: 2007-05-01
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:45:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Man, woman, birth, death





	Day the Music Died, The

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**The Day the Music Died**  
CJ/Danny, Josh/Donna, mentions of others  
Rating Adult – from the opening line of “Ben Casey” – man, woman, birth, death (but not infinity)  
Warning – character death, offensive language  
Spoilers through end of series  
Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul  
Feedback and criticism always welcomed  
My apologies to the Orioles, the people of Baltimore,the musicians who meet their demise, and their fans, (of which I am one.)  
\------------------------------------------------------  
 _Sunday October 31, 2010; Santa Monica, CA_

Danny was in the family room watching the Bears and the Lions. They broke into the game right in the middle of a play, so he knew it was something important and something disastrous. As he listened, he began to shake; thank God he had insisted she stay home this weekend.

He made his way to the bedroom where she was napping. He sat down beside her on the bed and gently tried to rouse her.

“CJ? Honey, please, wake up.” He kissed her (God, he missed kissing her this past week), lifted her by the shoulders and gently shook her.

“Danny?” she yawned in his face. “Whas,” she stopped when she saw his face, suddenly coming to full consciousness. 

“Danny, what is it?”

“There was an explosion at Camden Yards. It took down the stage, damaged the stadium. They don’t know yet how many, how many - ” 

He couldn’t go any further, but reached for the remote to the bedroom television.

“ – and we don’t know who was in the stadium at the time. The scheduled performers were Sting, the Who, Paul McCartney, Bob Dylan, and the Stones, but all weekend, many performers had been hanging around backstage. They were as anxious to see the other acts as were the concert attendees.

“At this point, no one has claimed responsibility for the attack. Several major groups have denied any knowledge of the attack. It’s hard to imagine who would object to the charities that would benefit from the concert. ‘Road to a Better World’ has made efficient transportation in Africa a reality and ‘Nurturing the Skill’ has trained local personnel to manage the projects. This new endeavor, ‘Power to the People’, intends to bring electricity to the furthest reaches of the sub-Saharan interior. None of these could be considered controversial. Also, other than the giving of consent by the countries involved, there has been no political involvement. All the funds have come from private entities and individuals, such as Franklin Hollis, the Prince of Wales, and the Sultan of Dubai.”

CJ looked at the scenes on CNN. What had once been a beautiful baseball park was filled with a smoking cloud. The reality of the situation hit her.

“Danny, if you hadn’t insisted that I stay home this weekend, let Glen be our only representative, I could have - ” she buried her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch about it. I’m sorry I doubted your intuition.”

He hugged her close to him.

They had fought about it for the past week. 

She had spent a week in Washington with Donna and Ginger (and Carol and Margaret when they could get away from their jobs) after Hogan’s wedding in September. She was still recovering from the mugging two weeks ago. She was planning to go to DC in November when Donna and Ginger delivered. She had just come back from San Luis Obispo and Bonnie, who had gone into premature labor last week. (Little Giselle Renée was doing fine, praise God, but would be in NICU until she reached 4 pounds. Jean-Luc was an emotional wreck.) They would be going to Norway in December for the Peace Prize ceremony for her and Frank Hollis, leaving Paddy at home. She really needed to take some time for herself, for their son, and for him.

She had finally given in, but let him know that she wasn’t a happy camper, especially where he was concerned. Friday, he told her to go ahead and go, but he said it in a way that screamed “I am making the sacrifice, I am being the mature one, selflessly holding down the home fires while you go gallivanting all over the country and the world.” She, in turn, declined the offer in a way that said, “I am sacrificing myself to stay home and be the _hausfrau_ you want me to be”. He almost slept in the guest room last night but decided that the king-sized bed was big enough for them to have avoided each other this long, and that they had a better chance of making up if they were in the same bed.

She still wasn’t completely happy with the compromise about the Mustang. Neither was he. (The Muñoz’ and the Bartlets told them that such dissatisfaction was the sign of a good compromise, but they weren’t convinced.) They had also had a minor spat when she found out about Paul’s concerns about the bruises on her shoulders only after he had left Los Angeles.

“Danny, if I had known, I would have made sure he knew that you would never hurt me! And it’s not something I can do in an email, or over the phone. Hell, I can’t even do it in person now; it would seem forced.”

He couldn’t tell her that he couldn’t talk about it with her while the minister was their houseguest because he couldn’t tell her, and still couldn’t tell her, what had been bothering him when he had unconsciously hurt her. Aisling had assured him that he wouldn’t die early, and that helped, but he still had the feelings about a marriage between Toby and CJ. He didn’t like keeping things from her, and the tension from that incident was kindling for the firewood of the disagreement about her going to Baltimore for the mega-benefit concert weekend.

But now, nothing mattered except that she hadn’t been in Camden Yards today.

“Jeannie, it’s okay. I’d take a month’s worth, a year’s worth, of cold shoulders, if it meant keeping you alive and well.” He accepted her kiss, her implied apology, with no sense of self-satisfaction. He thanked whatever ancestors were responsible for the vague ESP feelings he sometimes had. “But CJ, I didn’t have any feelings of dread about the concert; or if I did, I didn’t recognize them. I just wanted you home with Paddy and me. I’m just so glad you are safe.” He gave her a kiss in return that apologized on his part.

The television again demanded their attention.

“We’ve just received word that a group calling themselves ‘Sons of Aryan Purity’, a group up to now unknown to this reporter, is claiming responsibility for the explosions. They claim to object to the idea of providing any benefit to what they term ‘mud people’ and claim that, and I quote their release, ‘these schemes are fomented by the Yid as part of their one world plan for domination.’ They claim to be active in every state of the union, but refuse to name a headquarters.”

The phone rang. Danny answered it. “Hey, Josh. Yeah, we’re watching CNN right now. I’ll tell her. Keep us posted, please.” He turned to CJ.

“Honey, there are some preliminary reports.” He put his arms around her again. “John Hoynes and Margaret were there, the only ones from the Administration, as far as Josh knows. Margaret has a broken leg; John lost an eye. Sweetheart, Glen is in a coma; they don’t know if he’ll make it or not.”

“Walken?”

“They found him covering his nieces. The girls were unconscious and scratched up, but they’ll be okay. A girder, it fell directly on his head - ” He hugged her tighter as she gasped at his words.

The phone rang again.

“Other than the obvious one that she is devastated, she has no comment right now.”

His cell rang; it was Ken Robbins from down the street. “Yeah, Ken. I know, I just so glad she didn’t go. What you and everyone else can do? Listen, the calls are starting to come in and I think the reporters will be here soon. We could probably use someone to help screen the calls and to stand sentry at the doors. Thanks, buddy.”

A few minutes later, his cell rang again. Joel Feldman and Wally Hammash were manning the front door. Hank and Steve had the kitchen door. Ken, Frank, and Billy Rogers would take the deck, just in case someone tried to climb the fence. Laura Robbins, Clara, and Yan would be over to field the phone calls on the landline and on their cells.

The front door opened, admitting Nancy.

Franklin Hollis called from San Luis Obispo. He was arranging for a private security detail for CJ, Bonnie, and Nancy. “And the foundation offices will be closed until we have a better handle on these monsters.”

Clara handed CJ’s cell phone to Danny. (CJ was changing Paddy.) “Governor Seaborn’s office.”

“This is Danny Concannon.” “Yes, ma’am.” “Tell the governor we appreciate the assistance. You might want to call Frank Hollis in San Luis Obispo and let him know, so the private firm he hired can coordinate with the state troopers. And please thank the governor again for us.”

“Danny,” Laura said, “I have Josh Lyman from the White House on the land line.” She held out the phone to him.

“Danny, I have some more information, I’m letting you know before we tell the press, although CNN, as usual, knew before we did."

Danny looked at the telelvision. The CNN graphic now read "The Day the Music Died."

Josh continued, "It looks as if we’ve lost Dylan, Springsteen, McCartney, and Mick Jagger. Ringo, the rest of the Stones, and the Dead are in serious condition. The Who is unaccounted for, they were scheduled to be on stage after Sting, who was playing when the blast occurred. He’s okay, by the way, as are Beyoncé, India Airie, Melissa Ethridge, kd lang, the Dixie Chicks, and Ludacris. They were backstage. Most of the younger groups weren’t there, since they played Friday night and Saturday. Oh, Bono made it out okay also, as did Geldof. I just got a new list. Let’s see, Judy Collins is okay, as is Enya, so is Tina Turner. Oh, God, we lost Aretha!

“In terms of non-musical casualties, remember my old intern Ryan Pierce, well, we lost him and his wife, she was a Peabody from Massachusetts. Gus Westin was there with his dad and was hurt, but he’ll be okay. Same with Otto and Lou. Amy Gardner made it out without a scratch, naturally; I swear that woman has a portrait in her attic - . Wait, Carol just handed me some more. Andi has some cuts and bruises, and, fuck!, Danny, we lost Arnie Vinick!”

Fifteen minutes later, a contingent of state troopers arrived. After some consultation, the private security force and the troopers decided that they could more easily protect Nancy in the Concannon house and two members of the private firm went to Nancy’s parents’ house to pick up some things. The Estevez’s were visiting their son Charlie in Hawaii and they were advised to remain there for the immediate future. Nancy called Jesse Muñoz to let him know where she was. He told her he would come to stay with his aunt and uncle; he wanted to be near her.

With the arrival of the troopers, the neighbors were relieved of their sentry duty. Also, the private security force took over screening the calls. After consulting with the neighbors, they decided to cordon off the entire block. The children were disappointed about not being able to trick or treat, but since no children would be coming in, they would receive everything that the 12 families had planned to distribute, so they did get a decent supply of candy (just not a decent variety.) Frank Muñoz was called to report to El Segundo and the Air Force colonel left, asking Jesse to watch over his aunt and his cousins.

President Santos addressed the nation that evening, declaring threat level orange. The threat was domestic, but the FBI had no intelligence on “SAP”, and terrorism was terrorism, no matter the source. And although it would be inconsistent for a white supremacy group to ally with other terrorists, "the enemy of my enemy is my friend." He eulogized his deceased Secretary of State as a true patriot, offering his, and the nation’s, profound sympathies to Arnie’s wife, daughter, grandchildren, stepchildren, and step grandchildren.

The rest of the evening, all the major networks pulled their normal Sunday night schedules for retrospectives on the musical careers of the deceased artists and the life and career of Arnold Vinick.

_Monday November 1, 2010_

Danny woke in the half-light of early morning. He could hear the low hum of the lights that the California state troopers had erected to help intimidate anyone wishing to do ill to CJ.

His wife was snuggled into his right side, a change from their normal front-to-back “spooning”. Last night, they had made love gently, part as an apology for the fighting, part as an admission of relief that they had escaped potential personal tragedy. His eyes teared as he realized how much her loved her, how close he had come to possibly losing her.

He reflected that last year, it was lumps in her breasts; this year, it was a domestic hate group. He was beginning to hate October, and October, with its beautiful weather, college football, and the playing of all four major professional sports, had always been his favorite month.

CJ stirred and he reached down to kiss her.

“What’s the latest?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” he murmured into her mouth. “Whatever it is, it will be there later. I love you; I’m so sorry we fought. For a little bit, can we put off the tragedy and just be us?”

She smiled at him, stroked the side of his face, and then reached up to run her hand through his hair. Sometimes her husband had the best ideas.

They turned on the news briefly between showering and dressing.

The phones only rang a few times while they were eating breakfast.

The MacDonald’s called from Ireland.

“We tried a couple of times yesterday,” Erin said, “but we couldn’t even get a line into the States. However, both Aisling and I knew that the two of you were probably okay. Then Aunt Sorcha called and confirmed. Over here, it’s really hit the leading-edge boomers, people my age or so, the hardest. It’s as if we’ve aged fifteen years in the last fifteen hours.”

Danny told her that the 60-somethings in the States also seemed to be the ones who were most affected, but that the groups’ fans crossed over so many groups, even down into the upper 30’s. “A lot of the younger ones were introduced to them by their parents.”

Bonnie and Jean-Luc let them know that Giselle was making progress, and that the parents of the other NICU babies were being incredibly understanding about the inconvenience caused by the security force hired by Frank and the state troopers provided by Sam.

Carol called to let them know that Gus Westin had been discharged from the hospital, but Margaret was still in traction and John Hoynes was also still under medical care. Thank God, her son was with Bruno this weekend.

“CJ, for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t wish what happened on my worst enemy, and I know that eventually he’ll get an artificial eye, but right now, John Hoynes looks very distinguished with the eye patch. What were those old dress shirt ads?”

“Ah, the Hathaway man! One of my stepmother’s crushes. John’s back in the White House?”

“No, I stopped at the hospital and saw both of them before coming to work today.”

Ginger was having some premature contractions, probably because of her reaction to Arnie’s death. Rick was working with Arnie’s daughter and with the State Department. The Washington tributes would be Thursday and Friday, with the California services and burial on Saturday. (Arnie and Rick’s mother had agreed that when they died, they would be buried with their first spouses.)

After breakfast, CJ called Donna.

“CJ, he’s trying to keep everything from me, because he’s worried about the babies. There’s no one here with whom he can talk. I wish Sam were still here, as deputy. I mean, Josh can talk with him by phone, but Sam has so much on his plate, with the campaign and everything.”

“Well, I think that Sam is in better shape than President Santos, as far as winning tomorrow. Donna, maybe this isn’t the best time to mention this, but I’m having second thoughts about coming back to be with you when the triplets are born next week. (Donna’s OB/GYN was going to do a Caesarean, by Friday at the latest.) To be perfectly honest, Danny is a bit concerned about the amount of time I’ve been away from home, either by myself or with him. In fact, I was thinking about coming back for this concert weekend and we had a fight about it. When we heard the news yesterday and we both realized what could have happened, I came to my senses. I really think that I should stay home until the trip to Norway next month.”

“CJ, don’t worry about me. My parents and Josh’s mom will be here as long as I need them. Your marriage is the most important thing in your life right now, or anytime, for that matter. You’ll probably see Josh when he goes out there for Arnie’s services. I’m basically confined to my bed except for a few hours a day, showers and bathroom breaks, maybe eat one meal a day at the table. As I said, you take care of yourself, your husband and your son. Maybe you can stop by one the way to or from Oslo. Are you taking Paddy with you?”

“We hadn’t planned on it. I’ll talk about it with Danny. I think we’re both in a compromising mood right now.”

“Just remember, he and Paddy come first."

Josh called again that afternoon. They had caught two of the bombers outside of Columbus. By tracing credit card activity and by talking with the shocked parents of the boys (they were 16 and 17), they had found the headquarters and had captured the rest of the plotters in a small town outside of Muncie. It appeared to be a group of about 30, ranging in age from 15 to 25. The older men had obtained jobs with the electrical crew and were able to sneak in the explosives. The younger boys transported the stuff from Indiana to Maryland. Many of those over 18 (and therefore eligible for the federal death penalty) were looking for deals and were naming each other as the ringleaders. The younger ones were held in separate facilities and questioned to determine which of the older conspirators were most culpable. The threat level was still kept high, but the FBI was breathing easier; it appeared that the threat was confined to this small group.

There was also bad news. The ranks of the dead now included Ringo, the other Stones, the Who and the Dead. Glenallen Walken was still in a coma. If there was any good news (besides the capture of the perpetrators), it was that relatively few of the spectators were killed; it was the people on and around the stage that were in mortal danger. Who could claim to understand the mind of a terrorist?

“Danny, I really need to unload; I need to talk with someone. I don’t want to burden Donna with it, she’s so close and her doctor is adamant about her not doing anything to jeopardize the kids. Can I go off the record? Do you have time?”

“Josh, I’m not a reporter anymore.”

“But you do write a column and books.”

“But first, I’m your friend. Give me a few secs to move into my den, so we won’t be overheard.” He walked into the room where he did his work, shut the door. “Okay, unload.”

“We’ve got an election tomorrow. We’re in excellent shape, we expect to carry the vote 55-45 and the College 379-159. Before Vinick's death, the numbers were a bit higher. We’ll probably keep the House and may even get the Senate. But if Walken were to die before the end of the election hours tomorrow, all bets are off. So I find myself praying for his survival, not only because he’s a human being, but because it would be better for us. And this is horrible, but at least Vinick’s funeral can’t take place until after tomorrow. Danny, what have I come to when I think about utter human tragedy, the death of one good man and the serious condition of another, in terms of what it means to the Party? Is it time to get out?”

“You can’t help your feelings, Josh. I mean, if Arnie’s daughter or his wife wanted a funeral tomorrow morning, you wouldn’t stand in their way, would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, there you go. You’re a kingmaker, Josh. That’s what you do. You helped with President Bartlet, and now you have Matt Santos. In four years, it’ll be someone else.”

“Danny, and this is on deep, deep background, as far off the record as you can get, unless King Arthur shows up, I won’t be playing in ’14.”

“Really?”

“Really. The way I see it, the country will be ready for a change of party by then. With any luck, it will be Haffley again and he’ll fuck up so bad that in ’18, we’ll have a real good chance. And by then, Sam will be ready.”

“Ya think?”  
“Danny, I **know**.”

“No shit!”

“And, Danny, I’m going to want you and CJ on the team. Paddy will be nine. CJ already has the Nobel; she’s got nothing left to prove with ‘Road’. You’ll have your Ph.D., probably with honors. Block out the time now, buddy.”

“Josh, and this is also deep dark secret stuff, we want to start trying for another baby in a year.”

“So? Donna and I will have four, and I expect her to be with us. If you have another in ’12, he or she would be six in ’18. Can’t you see it, Danny? All of us working to get Sam, one of us, into the Oval Office. And a good guy, to boot. Like I said, it’s deep background and it’s 8 years away. But, Danny, it would be so great if you and CJ were with us.”

“I tell you what; check with us again in 6 years. Will you be coming out for Vinick’s funeral? And what was he doing at the concert?”

“I think so. The President will be going. According to Rick, his mom and Arnie wanted to be there. Apparently, they were both big fans of the Beatles and the Stones. It’s amazing how many generations those groups crossed. Listen, Ronna just let me know that I’m wanted in the Sit Room. Kiss CJ and Paddy for me.”

The Queen announced posthumous knighthoods for Ringo, Keith Richards, Charlie Watts, Ron Wood, Pete Townsend, Roger Daltry, and the other British members of the Who.

_Tuesday, November 2, 2010_

Glenallen Walken regained consciousness. He had lost some motor function and would have to undergo several months’ therapy, but the doctors were very hopeful that he would be completely healed. The important thing was that his mind was sharp, his vision clear, and his speech unimpaired.

CJ spoke with him for a few minutes.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need a medical leave of absence for a few months. I’m sorry to burden you with my duties for a while.”

CJ told him to not think about fund-raising but to concentrate on getting back to full function.

All the news outlets were reporting that voter turnout appeared to be much greater than normal. It was as if the voters were telling the hate-mongers that the American people would not be cowed, would not blackmailed by groups such as SAP.

By 10:00 PM EST, all major networks had declared that Matt Santos had won reelection. By 1:00 AM EST, Sam Seaborn and Barbara Fong had won the California gubernatorial race with 67 percent of the vote.

_Saturday November 6, 2010_

“Excuse me, Sam, Morgan. CJ, if you have a few minutes, my mother would like a few words with you.” Rick came up to the Concannons as they were talking with the Seaborns at the reception following Arnie Vinick’s interment.

“Mrs. Vinick, ‘I’m sorry’ sounds so inadequate, but please believe me that your husband will be missed. I came to know him professionally when he ran for office four years ago and then this summer, when we spent those five days with you at Cape May, I came to know him personally. I only wish I had known him earlier in our lives.”

“As do I, CJ. I had been widowed for 10 years before Arnie and I married; he had been widowed for about the same. We could have had so many more years together. However, I’m grateful for the year we did have.

“Now, I understand that Glen Walken will be out of commission for about six months or so, leaving you and ‘Road to a Better World’ without a fundraiser. I can think of no better tribute to my husband, no better way to say ‘eff you and the horse you rode in on’ to those rampaging monsters, than to offer you my services until Glen is able to resume his duties. It’s high time that I pass the family foundation keys to the younger generation, to Rick’s sister and to Ginger. So, if you’ll have me, I am at your service.”

“Mrs. Vinick, we would welcome your help. Let me talk with Frank and we’ll get the employment process started at once.”

“CJ, I don’t want any money! Surely you know what our family is worth!”

“Well, we need to have you on the payroll for insurance and bonding purposes. How about a dollar a year?”

That evening, CJ was relaxing in the hot tub, her eyes closed, reflecting on the events of the past week. She felt the familiar brush of mustache and beard against the side of her face, the press of lips on her cheek. At the same time, there was a wet, cold feeling on her abdomen. She opened her eyes to see a glass of white wine, held by a hand connected to a forearm with fine little red hairs.

“This place has the best cabana boy,” she sighed, taking the glass from Danny.

“My father always told me, ‘Whatever you decide to do, be the best at it’. So I’m trying.” He kissed her again. “Here, hold this for me.” He handed her another glass and climbed into the spa beside her.

“I guess you’re glad that Mrs. Vinick volunteered to help,” she said.

He switched his wine to the other hand and put an arm around her.

“I know that you would have had to step up, take on Glen’s duties, and I understand. But I must admit that I’m glad that she did. CJ, honey, I know you have your responsibilities and I do enjoy seeing you out there, doing great things and getting the credit you deserve. And next month, in Oslo, they won't need any lights, I'll be glowing so much in my love, awe, and pride in the total wonder that is you. But there’s still that part of me that wants to protect you, to keep you safe, that part of me that would have been a caveman, or a medieval knight, the part of me that was raised to believe that ‘protecting the women and children’ is what a man does. And then there’s the part of me that maybe is jealous that you have relatively more freedom in your work than I do now, with teaching and taking classes on a schedule.”

“Do you want to stop teaching, or drop out of grad school? Danny, you know I’ll support whatever you decide.”

“Of course I know that,” he kissed her hand, “and, no, I don’t want to do either. I want the Ph. D., and I want to teach with it. I know I have to deal with the schedules for the next two or three years; it’s the means to the end.”

“We could manage without the teaching income if you wanted to stop, or cut back to one class, while you're in school. I mean, it would mean more coach class on the flying, but we’re in pretty good shape, money wise. We could put off buying the place in Mendocino, just bank the money from land we sold to Brianna’s first husband’s family.”

“Right now, it’s okay. Like I said, I’ll keep the home fires burning for the next couple of years, be the wind beneath your wings. And speaking of wings, when do you plan to go to Donna?”

“Danny, I decided not to go right now. You gave me a lot to think about, and everything else that happened, well, Donna told me that she understood, that you and Paddy are more important to me. Do you think we could stop in DC on the way back from Oslo? By that time, Donna and the babies should be a bit more settled, plus Ginger and Rick and their newbie.”

His kiss was answer enough.

A few minutes later, he took the wine glass from her hand.

Five minutes after that, he was urging her onto her knees on the hot tub bench.

“Now why don’t you find the right angle and the right amount of pressure on this water jet,” he whispered into her ear.

“Danny!?” She was half surprised, half unsure.

“Right behind you, honey. This way, I can hold on with both hands and let the water do what my fingers would do.”

_Wednesday November 10, 2010_

The music community was planning a big memorial at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. Several younger stars had volunteered to take over Paul McCartney’s role in “Power to the People.”

Chris had a big exclusive on the attack. Apparently, the younger members of SAP were supposed to have worn plastic explosive and were to spread themselves throughout the audience, taking out the concertgoers when the stage detonated. However, all but one of them chickened out, realizing at the end that the older members of the group, the leaders, weren’t martyring **themselves** for the cause.

The lawyers for the younger conspirators were trying to paint them as dupes of the older members, as “mere children” led astray.

“Do you miss it at times like this, Danny?” Joel Feldman posed the question. The two of them, Steve, Hank, and the other men of the block were down at Harry’s, watching the Maple Leafs and the Bruins. (Sally Rogers was hosting a lingerie party for the women.)

“No. I’m tired of writing about peoples’ misery, peoples’ faults. And I talked with Chris last night. She’s tired, also. She and her husband are ready to start a family and she’s going back to school for a teaching credential.”

CJ and Danny continued to make up.

Josh and Donna continued to wait for the triplets.

Ginger’s premature contractions stopped and it looked as if she would go full term, the last of the three “Valentine presents”. She and Rick knew they were having a boy and had picked Matthew Aaron as a name, Matthew for Matt Skinner, the man responsible for their meeting, and Aaron because they liked it. Now, when the newest member of their family was born, he would be known as Matthew Arnold.

_Friday November 12, 2010 10:30 AM EST; Washington DC-- Georgetown University Hospital_

“Josh? What’s happening? Can you see anything?” Donna's vision was blocked by the drape over her stomach. The local was working properly; she couldn't feel a thing but her mind was perfectly clear and sharp.

“Donna, you know I don’t want to see the incision. I can’t imagine looking at your innards.” He reached down to kiss her forehead, then remembered that his face was covered with the surgical mask.”

“Okay, Team 1,” said the doctor, “we have ourselves a beautiful little girl!” The neonatal team assigned to the first baby took the child, took footprints and handprints, weight, length, did the first set of Apgar tests, cleaned up the child, and put her in Donna’s arms for a minute or two.

“Oh, Josh! Look at her!”

“Donna, you’re wonderful! Look what you did!”

“Team 2, here’s baby boy Lyman A!” The activities were repeated for the second baby.

“And last, but not least, Lyman boy B!” One more time, a child came into the world.

“Donna, my Donnatella, you are so amazing!”

“Yes, I am. These babies are so beautiful! Now, Doctor Andersen, go ahead and get my tubes tied!”

_8:15 AM PST; Santa Monica CA_

“Oh, my! Josh, what can I say? Besides _mazel tov_ , I mean? Send pictures as soon as you can and tell Donna I’ll call her later today or tomorrow. Kiss her and the babies for us.”

She hung up the phone, opened the refrigerator and opened a bottle of champagne. Pouring two flutes, she made her way to the bedroom. She set the glasses on the nightstand next to her husband and woke him with her kisses.

“Hi there,” she said. “Here.” She handed him one of the glasses.

“At this hour?” A yawn. “Why?”

“Because, Joshua and Donnatella Moss Lyman and Master Noah Leo Lyman announce, with great joy, the arrival at approximately 10:40 through 10:55 this morning, their time, of Joan Elisabetta, Leo Samuel, and Micah Daniel.” She smiled at him. “We’re godparents of the last, assuming we accept.”

“Micah Daniel? Really?” His smile was so brilliant, she almost had to close her eyes.

“Really.”

“Wow.” He lifted his glass. “To my godson, his brother, and his sister. _“Slainte. L’chaim.”_

_“Live long and prosper. L’chaim.”_ She set down her glass and crawled up against him. “Can you imagine, four kids under 15 months? But if anyone can manage, Donna can.”

“Elisabetta and Micah?” he asked.

“Donna’s mother’s parents. They met on Sicily at the end of World War II; he was with the 34th Infantry from Minnesota. Danny?”

“Yes, honey?”

“I’ve been thinking, off and on, so this isn’t just the moment, the emotions.” She took a breath. “Let’s start trying."

He looked at her and the grin his sister called “shit-eating Irish” began to take over his face. "Now? Okay."

“As soon as I see Scott and get the okay from him. He’s going to want me off the pill and ovulating for a while before we start trying, Danny,” she laughed.

He pulled her over his chest and then rotated her underneath him.

“To be sure, he will. I just want to get in some practice, so I’ll be ready when you are.”


End file.
